Saturday, 23 December 2017

Today is your lucky day. You may have literally made the most important click of your life by selecting this blog as the next webpage to grace your computer screen.

"Why?", you may ask. "I could be looking at cats; or dogs; or my friend's social media; or naked people; or a decent band's webpage; or hacking various government's internal security systems." All those things may be important, but they don't even compare to what this blog is about... dancing.

Now I can hear your whirring brain click into place. "Dancing, of course! That makes sense." There is literally nothing more important than that. However, despite the ridiculous importance of dancing I have been noticing something terrifying at our shows, that may well shock you. Everyone seems to have forgotten how to do it. Unless flinging debris at the band counts now; or looking on with disgust; or even worse, just bobbing your head along without moving a single atom of your body at all below the neck. We appear to be in a crisis.

I'm not going to pretend that I'm the world's best dancer, or the second best or the third. As the fourth best dancer in the world though, I feel I have the expertise to guide you back from the depths of darkness where you (the world) seem to have fallen. I have an endless arsenal of dance moves at my disposal and I feel it best that I explain as many of them to you as I can. This way, next time you find yourself at some sort of music show where the beat is pumping through your limbs and you're scared and confused at what to do, you will be absolutely and completely prepared to deal with it in any situation.

So without further ado, I will go on to explain this blog's dance move: the lawnmower.

The Lawnmower

This dance move is prestigious and iconic. It has stood the test of time from all the way back when people started using lawnmowers to now. Yet it is simple and easy to employ for all you novices to dancing out there. The only thing you need to have done to be able to utilise this dance move, is used a lawnmower. That's a pretty broad spectrum of people right there. If you haven't used one and you're not in a third world nation and haven't spent your entire life in poverty, then you're a bad person. Go away and mow a lawn, now.

Now for all of you that have used a lawnmower it is practice time. There are two different parts to this move that can be employed at different times in a song. The first part: pulling the starter cord. It is time to employ that valuable mowing experience we mentioned earlier. All you have to do is: from a relaxed standing pose, imagine you have a lawnmower in front of you. Now, reach down (physically) and pull the imaginary lawnmower cord. Now, keep pulling. The imaginary lawnmower in question is a hunk of junk so you're going to have to keep pulling that starter chord over and over in time to the music. Do it for as long as you feel is best, but I like to go for a verse at least. Occasionally, i'll stop and kick the imaginary lawnmower (also in time with the music), before going back to pulling the chord.

Ok, now part 2. This is where your frustration is finally released and you get to mow. It's usually good to transition to part 2 when there is a transition in the song, maybe going from verse to chorus. Now, keeping in time with the music your going to pull one last time, give a single satisfied nod, then begin to mow stepping in time. Mow your way around the dance floor, which is now a lawn, before the imaginary mower inevitable breaks down again and you go back to pulling the chord.

And that's it. Completely simple and easy to do. You can keep repeating it for as many songs as you wish, it'll just keep on going, as it's imaginary. I realise that the world will need many more dance moves as it is completely and utterly void of them at the moment, but for the present this is a good starter. Practice it everywhere you can and you'll get it in no time: you could lawnmower your way to work; through a boring meeting; to the shops -wherever! Needless to say, I will be very disappointed and enraged if there is not a vast increase in people doing this within a realistic time-frame of this post inevitably going super-viral. Have fun!

Friday, 1 December 2017

I feel like it's time to talk about lyrics. Or rather, my lyrics. Or rather, what the hell I was thinking when I wrote my lyrics. For a lot of songs out there, it seems there are many different, valid interpretations for what a song is prattling on about. For ours I would definitely encourage that and if people feel a song is about something the writer didn't intend, then go with it. In the end when a song is being listened to it's the meaning for the listener that is actually important. Yet, I know for some people that understanding the original intent behind the song is important, so here is my attempt to explain Icebreaker..

Now it's important to note that a lot of the lyrics I write are very intuitive, so there are many cases where I haven't realised what a song was about until the Bridge started forming, then I'd have an aha! moment and realise what I'd been on about up to that point. Icebreaker wasn't like that.. and it wasn't called Icebreaker until recently (all hail working name "Dynamic Song').

I started writing the lyrics for Icebreaker in the darkened, dingy depths of a student house in Leicester, fondly referred to as 'Edward House'. The guitar was already drafted out as per usual before I begin lyrics and I was watching an anime called 'Soul Eater'. Specifically, I was wondering what traits I found inspiring in a character called 'Blair'. If your reading this and you haven't seen Soul Eater I recommend you do (ignore the nude scenes), if you have seen Soul Eater you will know that Blair is a magical cat that can turn into a human. So this is where the beginnings of the song come from.. a magical cat.

Although, not exactly. It was more what I found inspiring in Blair, which is a character that has an uncanny ability to have fun and focus on "living in the moment" as it were. Not on some great career path or love pursuit or divine mission or whatever, just simply being themselves and enjoying life in the best way they can, for now. So a song came from that that celebrates the people in life who are exceptional at having fun and letting go, in the same way that people who are exceptional at motivating themselves or love or succeeding in more traditional ways are celebrated.

That may not make sense, I'm not sure but basically the song outlines the thoughts and feelings of someone inspiring in this way, in the sense that some people can be inspiring for being strong, smart or caring, who I would want to emulate. It starts with an imagined scenario where this fictional character wakes up after a night where they were embarrassed and hurt and how they dealt with that. Then goes on to explain there reasons for the way they act. "And I know I may have hesitations about wasting time after new sensations" - this line refers to the time that is "wasted" chasing after fun and the pressure they take from others to do something more tangibly worthwhile. "I'm just a debug away from new sensations" - refers to the need to get rid of any beliefs that are preventing them from new experiences. A lot of the song talks about overcoming a struggle to let themselves pursue what they truly value, despite that not being seen as an important goal in their life and despite being informed there are realities which they need to address and pursue: like getting rich or getting married. It's an Icebreaker in the sense that it's almost as if this person is introducing themselves and what they're about to someone they've just met.

Anyway sorry if I've confused you, the song is open to interpretation and is a celebration of these traits, I'm not saying everyone should emulate them but that I'm glad there are people that do, as being exceptional at having fun is important.

Here are the lyrics for Icebreaker:

Icebreaker

Verse
1

Strip
off, this old lost love,

Take
on, the world like I knew I would,

It’s
an irony line, I don’t wanna make you jealous,

I’ve
taken time, to love like no-one ever,

Look
in the mirror, I see nothing perfect,

But
that smile, knew it was worth it,

To
hit the ground last night knowing the risks,

A
tip-top way to marry a tiff,

Pre-chorus

And
I know I might have hesitations,

About
wasting time after new sensations,

It’s
not that I’m scared of me,

It’s
that I take my time clearing these realities,

Chorus

I’m
just a debug away from new sensations,

It
takes a long, long time to fill it with my expectations,

I’m
not worried about my life, I know that everything’s alright,

In
fact I could stand here all day, running around after nothing today,

The four thieves had been
walking for miles, completely separated from the rest of their
“band”. Each individually contemplated leaving the others to go
alone and each realised they didn't want to. The large pine trees
rose up around them, reducing the sky to splinters of sunlight
shining through the tree-tops. All four remained fairly unaware of
the land yet felt at home in it's wild and mysterious nature, the
peaceful quiet around them giving their journey a slightly mystical
quality.

“How far north is this
city?” the youngest of the thieves questioned. He had light hair,
was fairly tall, though not as imposing as Crole, and displayed a
curious and sly nature in his movements as he explored his
surroundings.

“Stop asking questions and
get a move on,” answered Borg: a small, squat man approaching
middle age. He wore a ruffled, dark, brown beard with a long ponytail
swinging down his back. He had also constantly worn a scowl over the
course of their collaborative get rich quick scheme, Sedrick noted
with mild interest.

“We'll know when we get out
of this forest.” The darkened trees that impenetrably surrounded
them reinforced Borg's mood. Alone without the rest of the band, they
stood less of a chance of finding this supposed city in the north
where the purses of the wealthy eagerly awaited them. In all honesty
they had never these cities before. The only resemblance of a city
they knew of came on the coast to the south of their land, still far
enough away for them to not be overly familiar with such a sizeable
settlement. They were used to living in a land similar to this dotted
with trees, hills and small settlements.

Just such a settlement came
crawling into view within an hour as the trees that clamoured around
the thieves began to thin and spread apart to form a clearing with a
village at the far end from the thieves approach. Upon further
inspection, 'village' proved too generous a word to describe it, it
was more a small collection of houses perched on the edge of the
clearing. Nevertheless, it provided an opportunity to the thieves for
food either through money, guile or the provision of a small service
for the inhabitants. Sedrick quickly opted for guile and disappeared
into the tree-line. As always he wanted to see on what adventure his
unique skills could take him and far he could push them. The others
left him to pursue food through another means. They stood discussing
the situation within the forest, just out of sight of the small
cluster of buildings.

“What money do we have?”
Borg queried, looking up at Crole.

“A little... enough for
food certainly but we don't know how many days we'll be on this
trek,” was the hesitant answer.

“I'm starving, I'm up for
money if it's quickest..”

“And we don't want to be
around if Sedrick gets caught...” chipped in Laurel.

“He's not stupid Laurel..”

“Then he can get my dinner.”

“Just fucking decide
already,” snapped Borg.

“Do you need us to decide
for you, because I think that requires some serious consideration.”

“You do know I have killed
before Laurel.”

“So you keep telling us
master murderer but I fail to care,” Laurel smirked honestly. He
didn't care, in fact there was only one member of their foursome who
had never killed – and that wasn't Laurel.

Before Borg could retaliate
Crole said matter of factly:

“Look, if we're doing this
together let's just vote on it and do whatever comes top.”

“Money,” Borg spoke
instantly and Crole shifted uneasily.

“The money will need to last
a while.”

“Service” stated Laurel,
not realizing in his need to annoy that he wasn't satisfying his own
hunger pangs.

After Laurel made his decision
a harmless, innocent woodcutter emerged from the buildings opposite
the huddle of thieves. They looked up, sensing the movement within
the still, tranquil scene. Thunk after thunk resounded around the
clearing as the stranger merrily hacked at his wood. Borg glanced at
Crole who frowned at Laurel and let out a sigh.

“Fine, money it is. Let's
get some food and shelter.”

Immediately, Borg strode from
the tree-line towards the chopping sound. The woodcutter stayed
focused on his work and didn't notice as Borg continued towards him.
Thunk, thunk, thunk the work was consistent, practised and cheerful
as Crole and Laurel followed Borg across the clearing, feeling the
grass sweep gently against their dark trousers. He didn't look up
once. Thunk and thunk, he could do this for days, the man was a pro-
content in his simple, harmless life. Thunk...thunk... this happy
chopping put a spring in Borg's step, each of which brought him
closer to the promise of delicious dinner. It had an honest tone to
it he thought, reflected in the peaceful, simple scenery that
surrounded the workplace and sent the noise ricocheting back at them.
One more thunk and the worker looked up, staring straight at Borg.
There was the softest of clicks followed by a great, sudden bang
echoing into the thieves ears with more force than they had ever
known. An echo which continued with sudden, epic force onwards around
the forest as the woodcutter's head exploded.

Kendra was strolling along the
forest path as a colourful variety of scattered leaves fell before
her, clutching at her boot as she passed by. Sandra hopped after her,
a messy debris left on the forest floor as she passed.

“Where are we Sandra?”
Kendra asked, a tone of authority in her voice.

“You know I know where I
am.”

“Where are we Sandra? What
would you call this collection of trees thrusting up out of this
muddy surface we call the ground?” Kendra continued regardless.

“I have trouble focusing,
I've made you aware of that in the past..”

“That's not an answer
Sandra,” Kendra stated unhelpfully.

“A forest.”

“A forest! Fucking brilliant
Sandra! Now, what do people tend to do in a forest?”

“Chop wood.”

“Something to do with
animals Sandra,” Kendra persisted in her unhelpful, authoritative,
exaggerated tone.

“Watch the birds.”

“Your not getting the game
Sandra, I ask you a question and you tell me what we both know I want
to hear.”

“Hunt.”

“And what do hunters leave?”

“Traps,” Kendra said in a
resigned tone.

“Now you know! Now you know
Sandra. After this lesson how can you possibly manage to wander into
a trap again!” Kendra finished, her voice brimming with sarcasm.

“That's what snares do I'm
afraid, but you're up and you're walking with bearable pain so that's
good enough for me to keep chasing after those thieves. That item our
clients want back is clearly precious and could cause more trouble
for us if we let just anyone get their hands on it.”

Sandra kept moving,
contemplating whether she should mention that she hadn't heard the
description of this mysterious, precious item. She thought better of
it, refusing to give Kendra another reason to humiliate her. Her
loose, cropped hair drooped down over her face as she looked up at
the sun. Still plenty of day left, as long as it continued to act
normally. There was a general buzz in the back of her mind, as she
guessed there was among everyone's, as to what had happened to the
sun. The possibilities of why it had disappeared were endless to her,
so she had decided to focus on hoping that nothing dangerous would
come of it and try not to let it bother her too much. The conflicting
theories of the merchants amused her still though, as her lip curled
in spite of the stinging area where the snare had wickedly clawed
into her left calf.

A few hours later the
stinging had eased and she had promoted herself to hobbling over
half-hopping/ half – lurching up the path.

“Kendra may moan a lot but
at least her partner had decent first aid skills”, she mused as the
path evened out after another hill. The woodland continued to stretch
out before them, continually littering the path with the colourful
leaves. Her reverie was smashed as she heard strained voices further
up to the left of the track. Kendra didn't hear, she in turn was
wondering if she should call a halt for the day so Sandra's leg could
heal better, when she quickly shot her arm out- tensed horizontally
to the left. Sandra instantly thumped into it and collapsed back onto
the floor.

“Pit trap,” Kendra
stated. She had only just seen it at the last moment before she
herself had triggered it, the slightest of patterns in the leaves
revealing that they had intentionally been arranged. It was huge,
covering almost the entire path. Most likely designed for a bear she
thought, slightly confused.

Sandra got up and motioned to
go quietly indicating where the sounds were coming from. She had to
be guided by Kendra around the trap for fear of worsening her leg.
Once they were beyond it Sandra crept forward confidently and
silently through the trees, Kendra rustling quietly just a few steps
behind, her ears pricking up as the voices became louder the closer
they came.

They were coming from a
clearing where three men surrounded another on the floor with knives
in hand. The man on the ground had deep cut marks and bruises where
he had been gruesomely assaulted by his assailants. Kendra wondered
how he managed to keep himself from falling unconscious as he looked
up, blood oozing from a cut on his lower lip.

“Tell us where to go!”
one of the knife wielding maniacs commanded, blood dripping from his
knife onto the tranquil forest floor. The scene looked horrific, but
Sandra did note at least that the injuries were still relatively
minor on the victim, if they could just get him away he should be
able to make it to the nearest medical attention.

“We have to intervene,”
she whispered to Kendra, focusing on keeping her breathing subdued
and quiet. Kendra had already formulated a plan, as well as noticed
the purple wine jars stacked next to the thieves' baggage and
supplies.

“Make your away around
silently to the opposite end of the clearing,” she ordered at a
minute volume with eyes focused in anticipation. “Once you're there
stay out of sight and ready to make your move. I'll try and draw them
away, once I do get the prisoner and the wine and head north. There's
a village a few miles from here, do you remember?”

“Batesmoor.”

“Correct, take the merchant
there with the wine, I'll follow you once I've gotten rid of these...
scum.”

Sandra nodded and made her way
around the clearing. Her blue top and leggings contrasted amazingly
with the green scenery so she kept her movements slow and precise
around a path which kept her far enough from the clearing to remain
hidden. Meanwhile, the merchant continued to be questioned and take a
beating. Kendra lost sight of Sandra as she got closer to the
opposite side, it was now up to her intuition to time her move just
when her partner was in position. She ran through the plan once more
in her head. It could be better, but she trusted in her speed,
intelligence and natural ability to improvise to get her out of any
setbacks. The only worry was that if the thieves didn't go for her.
The seconds ticked past and as the thieves moved in for another
attack on the gentleman she decided to move.

She stepped into the clearing
perpendicular to the thieves' vision the jagged edges of the stones
she clutched digging into her skin. Being so intent on their prisoner
she had a wine jar under her arm and a stone ready to hurl before
they noticed her. Her first stone crashed into the nearest thief's
face as he turned to face the threat. He was tall and gangly in shape
lurching backwards as he yelled out, a hand clasped over his face. A
string of foul language erupted from the thief stooped down to cut at
the victim as a stone zipped into his teeth. Kendra laughed merrily
and galloped off into the trees. The stooped thief spat blood onto
the already blood spattered floor.

“Stay here!” he shouted at
the unharmed thief as he stepped forward.

“We'll go get her and she
can join him,” he muttered nodding to the groaning man on the floor
as he followed his taller comrade into the woodland.

The remaining thief wiped
a baffled look off his face before standing guard over his prisoner,
a knife at his hip Sandra noted.

“Could be worse”, she
thought. “At least two of the criminals had gone after Kendra's
diversion. Time to improvise, I guess..,” as she felt around for a
decent grip on the large chunk of wood in her hand and glared at the
thief.

Friday, 13 October 2017

Right Kate and
random, generic internet-surfer I'm going to call Steven, it's time
to talk about bands. More specifically bands that I wouldn't have
heard of if I wasn't in a band (probably). A small compilation of the
more noticeable bands I've seen through gigging or alternatively,
when scouring through music groups to promote our band online.
Basically, they keep these activities interesting (as well as the
people who come to shows, playing live, beer and John's beard etc.)
by exposing me to brand new, exciting music that I wouldn't have
heard of otherwise. So here is a few new underrated bands that have
stood out for me:

Vertical Noise

These guys from
Nottingham were at our first gig playing right after us, causing me
to madly rush the load in afterwards (forgetting to pack up my
stands) so I could run back inside and catch their show. My first
impression of this band came weeks before the gig and it could be
described in one word: Noisy. Certainly, the name suits them, but it
was a catchy kind of noisy that I could both bob my head or smash a
dining set to. Their music gave me options.. and I liked that. If I
could recommend one song to listen to it would be “Lieutenant
Colonel Mother Teresa”, named after a relative I'm assuming. I
believe this is their first single (don't quote me on that either of
you) and it's lengthy, dynamically varied intro wins me over from the
start – well worth a listen:

Now Steven, as a
generic internet user I'm surprised you've made it this far: but if
you scurried on past that link without pressing it to rush through
this “blog” post without checking out the music I'm carefully
selecting for you, then what's the point? You may as well listen as
you read since you're so committed to reading this now, even as I
talk about literally nothing for a few sentences..

Brain Circus

I met these guys
from Sheffield as the opening band in our second gig, and upon
hearing their name I thought it would be some sort of psychedelic
madness that I would struggle to wrap my head around. Yet, as they
played I discovered that they were a catchy pop punk band. At least,
I think it was pop punk... it definitely reminded me of pop punk
music. Looking at their facebook page, the only live video I can find
is a cover of Led Zeppelin's Moby Dick: so they definitely have a
good taste in music.. and a great drummer. The drummer's talent
really stood out while I watched them, and with solid singing and
some great riffs on the guitar, I will want to check out their songs
when they finish recording. Check out their facebook page here:

https://www.facebook.com/BrainCircusUK/.

FES

When the gig
organizer tells you that you'll be playing with one of the best bands
that he's ever booked, it's tempting to feel down that you're not
that band. However, when you've already checked out said band and are
excited to hear their music, you realize that it's a forgiveable
offence.. this one time. When that band then can't attend the show,
it's easy to feel down again.. but then you get to play a show.. and
so on so forth. FES are from the far off land of Peterborough and
have been around just over a year at this point. I may have missed
seeing them live, but I can assure you both that their recordings are
well worth checking out. I would definitely classify them as pop
rock, if forced to do such a thing.. but if you're adamantly a
dubstep/rave man Steven, then even you may enjoy this if you consider
opening your god-damn mind. Their music feels very easy to get into
no matter which genre you feel you are tied to, and can be super
uplifting to listen to. Here's their first single:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CLyK8x1PG4k
and check out their EP on bandcamp :
http://flatearthsocietyuk.com/releases
.

The wild men had retrieved the
valuable cargo and were heading as far away from the path as they
could go, crashing through the undergrowth and smashing past trees in
a direct beeline north.

“Guys I can't peg it any
longer... ” Four of the thieves had stopped in a clearing and were
catching their breath.

“I wouldn't worry, I don't
think they even noticed.”

The speaker straightened up,
clad in black and tall enough to be fairly imposing, should the need
arise. His hair was scrappy at best and he had a single false tooth
of magenta in colour.

“So much wine!” one of the
thieves exclaimed excitedly, “I wonder what I will do with this...”

“Stop stroking the wine
Laurel..”

“It's my wine! I'm
sophisticated! I like wine.”

“Still there's no need
to...”

“Guys sit down.” Magenta
Tooth stated.

They all quickly collapsed
onto the floor, littered about the clearing among the wild, overgrown
plants and fallen timber. There was a short pause as the thieves
enjoyed the opportunity to catch their breath before one of them
called out to Magenta tooth.

“According to the informant,
valuable, more than gold and most exotic devices.”

“Why?”

“They love it here and in
any of the nearest cities, plus there's none available for thousands
of miles.”

“Not any cities for a while
around though.”

“That's what the informant
says..”

“And the nearest city is to
the north?”

“Again, as the informant
states..”

“With minimal law
enforcement in the area to stop us...”

“Correct, due to the sparse
population of the area and the fact that it isn't really claimed in
the name of any city.”

Back at the carts the
merchants were confronted by two professional looking women, with
badges.

One of them gave a long, tired
sigh.

“Why don't you finish your
story?”

“Of course madam we'll get
right to it, but first we need to finish our argument..” one of the
motley collection of purple garbed men replied.

“I mean, we've got it down
to bustle or kerfuffle right?”

“No bustle or hustle! There
was no kerfuffling..”

“Right, of course..”

It can sometimes be an amusing
thing to watch an argument uncontrollably unfold in front of you
Kendra pondered, if only this was one of those times.

“Just move on from that
word, whatever it is and continue on with your story...”

It took two hours for an
agreement to be reached, during which Kendra noticed her partner,
Sandra, spent much of it gawking; displaying a minute reminiscence of
her awareness of the situation.

“Ok, so we heard a hustle,
as in when someone says 'let's hustle'”

“Yes I've heard the term,”
Kendra drawled in an unimpressed tone.

“Then when we checked the
back of the carts,” continued the merchant.

“There was nothing, just a
couple of bottles left over.”

“I don't even know why
they stole them all,” chimed in the merchant referred to as Briax.

“Even a small amount of
effort wasn't worth such a seemingly insignificant prize, unless..”

Sandra nodded listening
intently, until of course she wasn't. Her mind was quickly
calculating how much the thieves would make on even the Blackest of
Markets. Two seconds into that she was wondering what it was like to
be a trader on such a market and what she could sell. Two minutes
later her mind zipped back into focus a solid retirement plan
involving cannons, Frisbees and the world's undying need for a new
extreme sport involving pets, under-way in the back of her mind. She
listened just in time to nod to Kendra's “Let's go!” and move off
in search of the wild men.

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

This
is a story all about how some lives got flipped turned upside down..
it's chapter one of the tale literally no-one asked for, creatively
named "Police, Thieves and Merchants".. let's have a read..

Police,
Thieves and Merchants

Chapter
1: Crying Wine Merchants

It
was dark during the day. Eleven travellers turned up to stare, some
quickly glanced away. The shining light up above had faded fast to be
replaced with a darkened circle upon a fiery outline.

It
had been this way for two minutes. The travellers stood scattered
across the path wandering aloud as to how this could occur. A few
argued it was the work of their god, as is the norm when facing the
unknown. Of course they believed everything was the work of their god
anyway so it wasn't a very enlightening opinion for them.
Additionally, those who put their faith in the more scientific
organizations were arguing their viewpoints.

One
argued that the sun had died and that they would all freeze to death.
He had taken to shouting manically, throwing his arms up and
gesturing wildly to make it known that his point is the correct one.
Another followed the theory that their world is a round spherical
object called a planet, constantly spinning and flying in and out of
light and dark. He argued that the planet had taken a diversion and
was leaving the light early today, possibly to never follow it's
original path and return. He had a more sombre tone, wistful for the
day-time he had lost forever. Of the rest, they agreed that the sun
had been eaten by a giant monster and someone needed to defeat the
monster and cut it back out again. They thought this was far more
interesting than the scientific or religious opinions and were
discussing how such a hero would get up there to kill it.

Cax
sniffed at the air, allowing the scent of the pine trees swaying in
the breeze at the side of the path to blow through his nostrils.

“What
fools” he thought, as he gazed at the trees surrounding the path on
either side. The travel-stained, barely purple robe he had received
upon being admitted into the group swirled around his ankles as he
cocked his head against the breeze. He attempted to listen out for
any signs that they were being tracked before the loud, bitter
conversation hauled him back into it's embrace.

“Look”
someone stated in a mournful tone, “look, look... look. Clearly
this is not what you want to hear but we have left the light, the sun
is gone and is never coming back. No gods will be returning it to
us.”

“The
work of the gods almighty can't be understood by mortal men Briax,
we'll be lucky if we get a hint of their plan.”

“Now,
now Pollux don't be morbid, there are always signs if we know how to
read them.”

“I
wonder how we didn't hear the monster before now.”

“Stop
screaming Lax! Also, there is no monster.”

“What
swallowed the sun then?”.

“Nothing,
there will be signs from the gods.”

“Oh
sure Cax but you say everything is signs from them. What sign is the
monster?”

“I
reckon I could kill it.”

“There
is nothing to kill because there is no monster, the signs are all
around us – oh do shut up Lax!”

“How
would you kill it Throx?”

“Now
look here... look... look.. this conversation is meaningless, we need
to start getting used to the era of the night!”

“Night
people? That is interesting... But no the monster must be huge!”

“There
are signs all over the landscape..”

“I
see a sign that the sun is dead.”

“I'll
need a big knife, but when I have that, it's just a matter of timing
and preci..”

“Wait!
Briax, did you hear that rustle?”

“I
didn't hear a rustle Paxter but there was a distinctive hustle, as in
let's go- let's hustle!”

“Shut
up! It was absolutely a rustle.”

“Sounded
like a tussle to me.”

“Where
did it come from?”

“The
ruffle came from the back of the carts.”

“Now
your being stupid, it is definite rustling.”

“No
a hustle, it's getting further away.”

“Which
means that whatever is rustling is getting further away.”

“Or
more probably the tussle is..”

“Sounds
like a big kerfuffle.”

“Right!
I'm seeing what's making that rustle,” Paxter exclaimed as he broke
away from the group.

“Nothing
if you ask me, but I could check on the bustle.”

Paxter
spun round. “Bustle?! What planet are you on, how does that rustle
sound even remotely like a bustle?!”

Xa
cleared his throat.

“Well
what you mistake for a rustle is actually clearly people bustling
against one another to get away.”

“That's
the hustle!”

“No
Briax, not a hustle that's more co-ordinated, this is definite
bustling sound.”

“Xa,
your fucking stupid, it's clearly a tussle otherwise whatever it was
would have bustled, hustled, rustled away by now!”

“Oh
Throx, sweet Throx.. all you care about is fights and there is no
fight here.. just a kerfuffle.. someone fucked up.”

“I'm
joining the tussle..”

“Don't
you have your big monster to fight first Throx?”

The
argument continued on for several minutes. Meanwhile the thieves
rustling in the back of the wine merchant's cart bustled to get as
much of the precious stock as they could. There was a tussle and a
couple of scuffles, plus one thief managed to have a kerfuffle and
tripped over. There was certainly no hustle though as the thieves ran
in a disorganised mess splitting up as they raced away from the
emptied cart.

As
the sun reappeared behind the shadow there were tears in the
merchants' eyes, partly from relief and partly from distress over
their missing cargo. All except Cax, who considered himself
stubbornly correct in both his previous assertions.

Wow.. impressive.. you made it through. That's
it for chapter 1. Check back on the CWM blog for more randomness..
coming soon..

Saturday, 12 August 2017

Hello and welcome to this... blog. I'm not sure what generally goes on in blogs but this will be a place where the band can write about whatever takes their fancy.. so expect anything! Literally anything at all!Seeing as we just played our first gig I thought I'd kick things off with the thoughts going through my head as we played or first song live.. ever. Enjoy... or not I guess depending on your mood..

The reassuringly even wood of the stage rests beneath my feet as I scamper about
wondering what I'm missing. Twizzle, twizzle, twizzle. The various knobs around the
drum-set inhabiting the rear of the stage need adjusting to the perfect, optimum level.
A quick glance up and everyone else on stage is not near as frantic against the backdrop
of darkened silhouettes waiting in judgement.
Drumsticks! Of course i'm missing that slightly essential item to play the drums.
Quickly I'm dashing in the back room and out again leaping through the tangled,
forest of wires which make up the floor of the stage and back behind the kit.
Back to frantic twizzling I suppose until everything is just right.. except that
cymbal stand. Why won't it stay completely still? It does look a bit wobbly.
Just a few more tightens and it should be fine.. Everyone is turning towards me with
a questioning look of expectation: clearly they want me to hurry.
"Are you ready?"
"Yeah, for the line check?"
"Yer.. I don't think there's a line check."
"What?!"
Ah shit first no sound check now no line check. Well there's only so much that can
go wrong on a first gig. I give the bass drum a few kicks and hit the snare a
couple of times to confirm with myself that this drum-kit does make sounds
before giving a nod of confirmation.

Rob begins far too immediately and I'm in drum mode, ticking down until the rest
of us come in and.. Bam! I've started and my first thought is how awesome the new snare sounds
crackling out as it gets belted in the intro. Wait that cymbal hit felt a bit
weak.. I look up and the pesky cymbal stand has already decided to flip the crash
back over itself away from me. Of course this now initiates a chaotic few moments where I
have no idea whether to keep trying to hit the rebellious thing or just depend on
the ride.. Somehow I manage to decide to do both as we belt on into the verse.

Muscle memory and vain pride motivate me to keep using the crash despite it's
awkward state but it soon becomes obvious that I'm going to have to abandon this
dumbass strategy. By the chorus I'm all about the ride and find some breathing space
to actually think about what everyone is doing. It all sounds good from what I can
tell and I'm sure the mass of blackened blobs beyond the stage light are
enjoying themselves wonderfully.

Soon though it's back to chaotic neural patterns as I try to figure out in
approximately 1 second how to play our cymbal-heavy intro with just a ride.
For some bizarre reason this appears to go well and I can feel myself really
getting into the music.. except is this too slow? This has got to be too slow.
How is no-one else in the band glaring at me yet? This is a snail's pace
compared to practice- I'm pretty sure the entire audience is leaving in disgust.
And... calm down.. breathe.. listen to Dory... just keep playing.. the blobs are
still with us.

The second chorus is coming to a close.. this is where I get my little break..
HOLY SHIT YES. Thank christ I can actually adjust that cymbal! Tom laughs
as I grin at the finally well-positioned, glimmering sheet of metal. I celebrate by
smashing it as I come back in mid-bridge and it gloriously stays where it's supposed to.
Wait a sec.. that kick drum sounds a bit off. I look down to see the pedal veering off
to the right, completely inconsiderate to it's supposed job of smashing repeatedly
into the bass drum in front of it. Great.. and we're off into the final, loud, smashing chorus.

Come on pedal.. stay with me.. don't fuck off now.. I find myself staring keenly
at my feet as Rob comes over in some sort of guitar inertia for some serious guitar-
drummer stare-off time. I'd love to join, I'm never one to miss a guitar-drummer stare off
but that pedal is inching away just a little bit.. Stay with me pedal, stay with me
cymbal- we're heading into the crescendo and... made it! Haha! That was excellent!!
The blobs are all still here! Time for some serious fiddling before the next song begins
as the music quietens down and John begins segregating the crowd into people who know us
and people who don't..

Wow you made it to the end of that?! Check out the grand band blog for more things you weren't really looking for!